


an awfully big adventure

by kittenby (screechfox)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14263698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screechfox/pseuds/kittenby
Summary: In which Martyn is undead (this is not a new development) and Strife stumbles across him in a rather bloody situation.





	an awfully big adventure

**Author's Note:**

> in the latest round of 'kit gets bored of eternal wips sitting in google drives', this thing, which i had much bigger plans for originally, though admittedly, i'm still fairly happy with the way it turned out.
> 
> draft title was 'plant gore plant gore', which probably tells you everything you need to know. this title is part of a quote from peter pan, because i am completely and utterly shameless and still need to write that fic but probably never will.

The grass is brown, and wilted, and it twists around Martyn’s fingers as they dig into the dirt.

“This... seems like a bad time,” Strife says, well aware of how much he’s understating things.

One eye, the bright blue bloodshot with a yellow-gold, focuses on him. It twitches, like it wants to narrow but can’t quite remember how.

There’s a long gash, half-healing, down the other side of Martyn’s face. It’s ragged; it looks painful, and infected, and just downright _wrong_. Martyn’s other eye? That doesn’t seem to exist anymore.

On his first glance, Strife would have said it was just sealed shut. On his second glance, Strife is kind of freaked out by the entire thing. On his third glance, he is prepared to take in every detail of this new situation.

There are… flowers growing out of Martyn’s eye socket. They’re not species that Strife can identify - dark centered, with long, bright petals that stretch across Martyn’s skin. They’re also covered in the golden liquid that seems to serve as Martyn’s blood.

(There’s also leaves, logically enough. But frankly, Strife is having a hard enough time accepting the flowers thing.)

“Fuck-- Fuck you,” Martyn says, for some approximation of the word ‘says’. “Go away.” With a wheezing, shuddering sound, he coughs some of that syrupy sap-blood onto the ground.

Small petals, like those of daisies, sit in the puddle on the soil.

“What _happened_?” Really, Strife doesn’t have to ask. They’re not even a mile from Parv’s castle, and Parv is too lazy to carry any evidence far. This makes perfect sense.

“Fuck you,” Martyn says again, glaring up at Strife with surprising force.

Strife feels himself wringing his hands. He almost stops himself, but the gesture is comforting when faced with… whatever the fuck happened here. This is more uncertain than he’s felt in a long time, and he has the racing pulse to prove it.

“We need to get you somewhere with medical supplies,” Strife says, his mouth moving quicker than his thoughts. “The damage is pretty substantial but-- it’s fixable.” At least, Strife hopes so. Otherwise, he’ll have a dead plant kid on his conscience and, semi-irrational grudges aside, he doesn’t want Martyn _dead_.

Martyn looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“We’re--” He coughs and spits a sharp tooth into the pool of blood beneath him. “ _We’re_ not doing anything.”

Strife blinks, managing to be caught off guard yet again. He opens his mouth, but Martyn continues before he can interject - apparently very determined, despite the semi-constant wheezing.

“ _You_ are going to go on your-- your merry way. _I_ \-- I am going to stay right here and not move for-- for a few months.”

Strife watches as Martyn’s fingers dig further into the dirt, and he can almost imagine him just growing roots and staying there forever. Then he shakes that fantastical idea from his head; it’s not as though it’s doing either of them any good.

“You’re bleeding out,” he says, voice high and incredulous. “You’re going to _die_ , and you just want to stay here and let it happen?”

Martyn makes a sound that could, potentially, be a laugh. He grins lopsidedly at Strife with bloodied teeth.

“It’s happened before! Never-- never quite this bloody, but-- you must have trained Parv well, right?”

Knowing that Martyn is possibly mortally injured doesn’t make Strife any less tempted to punch him for that comment. He doesn’t, though - he just breathes out, and puts on his most professional, neutral expression. And then, without any fuss, he scoops Martyn off the ground,

The kid kicks and punches, but even if he had any real strength, he’s as light as a feather. Like Parv, Strife thinks dubiously, Martyn is probably a dirty fighter.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> as always, you can find me at screechfoxes on tumblr.


End file.
